


a ribbon to wind thy soul, and bind love to thy breast

by celestialbisexual



Category: Archive 81 (Podcast)
Genre: Discussions of Murder, Lot of blood, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Rituals, a completely unnecessary cameo by chris and lou bc I MISS THEM, does static man fuck?, he fucks, makeup sex in a warehouse surrounded by bodies, non-explicit non-euclidian sex, oh yeah, ritual violence, some bone fragments, some not super graphic violence, there's a lot going on here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:24:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialbisexual/pseuds/celestialbisexual
Summary: Static Man hovers in the corner, bursts of static arcing off of him like lightning. He is silent, solemn even. Nicholas wants to reassure him, but he doesn’t have the words.All he can do is put his head down and continue to work.





	a ribbon to wind thy soul, and bind love to thy breast

**Author's Note:**

> So that season finale huh? I wondered how Static Man getting his body back would actually work, and along the way it became about his relationship with Nicholas and their insecurities and Nicholas's fear of losing his humanity. So that's cool. 
> 
> Please let me know if there's anything I need to tag/more specific content warnings y'all need! I think I got everything but this is the goriest thing I've written so far. 
> 
> Title is from the Pottsfield Song, from Over the Garden Wall, ofc

Nicholas hums to himself as he shakes out the salt in a circle. His father’s lullaby, still a comfort, even after everything. Static Man hovers in the corner, bursts of static arcing off of him like lightning. He is silent, solemn even. Nicholas wants to reassure him, but he doesn’t have the words. 

 

All he can do is put his head down and continue to work. 

* * *

 

Nicholas falls out of his father’s study and into his father’s study. He digs his fingers into the plush carpet, and tries to breathe. It is similar, so similar, but his eyes fix on the obsidian bust. The bust that is sitting on the desk and not on the ground and not covered in blood,  _ covered in his father’s blood _ -

 

Nicholas scrambles for his phone and plugs in Static Man’s number. There is a squeal and a scream and a hiss of static and then he is there.

 

“ **I AM THE KNIFE IN** \- oh shit, Nicholas. What the fuck happened, dude? Where’s Chris?” 

 

Nicholas shakes his head, does not look up at him. “It was all a lie, none of it was true, and he tried to- and then I- I killed him.”

 

He feels Static Man kneel beside him, like a million tiny static shocks on his skin. It’s not unpleasant. “Your dad?” 

 

“Yeah.” Nicholas stares at his hands, still burrowed in the carpet. “Chris is fine, but she’s- she’s not coming back.” 

 

“Well. Shit.” Static Man says. “That really sucks, dude.” 

 

“Yeah. It really does.” Static Man reaches out, then, one arm-that-is-not-an-arm winding around Nicholas’s shoulders, settling gently and carefully. It hurts enough that Nick can pretend the tears in his eyes are pain, as he turns blindly into Static Man’s arms, wraps his arms around his hard-cold-smooth middle, and holds on. 

* * *

 

Next he scatters the flowers and fruit, daffodils and apples, respectively. He’d given Static Man an impromptu lecture on the symbolic meanings of various fruits and flowers the week before. Nicholas had been in his underwear, moving around like he was back in a classroom while Static Man lounged on his bed, amused and indulgent. He’d been sweeter about it than most of his exes were, nodding along at the right points, and even asking a few questions at appropriate moments. It was useful information, after all.

 

They both agreed that much of the symbolism in this particular ritual was heavy-handed, but that they didn’t especially care, as long as it worked. 

 

And it would work. It had to. 

* * *

 

They watch Over the Garden Wall in Static Man’s apartment, a bucket of Popeye’s on the coffee table in front of them.

 

Static Man’s not-a-hand begins to creep up Nicholas’s thigh as they watch, and Nicholas swats him away without thinking.

 

“Not a Netflix and chill kind of guy?” Static Man asks, “or not an eldritch horror kind of guy?” 

 

It’s a joke, of course, but there’s a vulnerability to Static Man, tightly coiled at the other end of the couch, very literally buzzing with tension. 

 

Nicholas picks up the remote, pauses the show, and then very firmly, deliberately, kisses Static Man.

* * *

 

He takes the virgin’s blood and honey, premixed for convenience, and began to draw. He’d gone to Ms. Roland for the blood this time, because he needed to be sure it would work, confusing semantics of virginity aside. The old woman hadn’t grown any less terrifying since he last saw her, but she gave him the blood for free.

 

She’d asked about “Alice”, and he’d told her that she was gone. Ms. Roland had nodded, seeming unsurprised. 

 

“She’d always been more connected to that world than ours.” She’d croaked, and Nicholas did not argue. He needed the free blood, and he couldn’t say for sure that she was wrong. Chris wasn’t here anymore, after all. 

* * *

 

It’s like a record skipping. One minute Static Man is so unnaturally still Nicholas is certain that he’s made a mistake, and the next he’s all over Nicholas, electrifying every piece of skin he comes into contact with.

 

Nicholas is flat on his back on the couch, moaning into something that is not a mouth but has teeth and a  _ wicked  _ tongue while hands-that-are-not hands push his shirt up, tracing stinging lines along his chest. 

 

“Fucking  _ finally _ , dude.” Static Man groans, his sharp teeth against Nicholas’s throat. “It’s been so goddamn long, you have no idea.” 

 

There’s a thought there, about whether it’s really him Static Man wants, or just any willing body, but Nicholas tamps it down with a half laugh. “I think I might, actually.” 

 

He sits up to help Static Man get his shirt off, then pulls away. “Wait, wait. Can you even-? I mean I thought that you didn’t…”

 

“I mean, I don’t have genitals if that’s what you mean,” Static Man says with a shrug that makes Nicholas’s eyes cross if he thinks about it too hard. “But I have  _ mad  _ powers, like I said. I’m pretty sure I can rock your world.” 

 

Nicholas groans, but lets himself be pushed back down onto the couch. “If you make a pun about it being electric I’m getting up and leaving.” He warns. 

 

Static Man’s grin is a terrifying thing, splitting his face in half and filling Nicholas’s chest with warmth. 

 

“We’ll see, baby.” He says, and then his not-hands are on Nicholas’s chest, roving in skittering fractals, and his not-mouth is on Nicholas’s cock and Nick sees  _ light. _

* * *

 

He’s not a particularly good artist, but he’s been practicing, and the symbols come out alright. He throws a grin to Static Man, still flickering anxiously in the corner.

 

“Almost ready.” He promises. “Just one thing more.” 

 

He stands up, stretching his bad leg out carefully. And then he goes downstairs, and retrieves the body from the basement.

* * *

 

“So are you ever gonna go back to your dad’s place?” Static Man asks, stretched out beside Nicholas on the banker’s bed. Nicholas searches for some regret about fucking in her bed, and finds none. “Because I was thinking we could just like, burn it down. Might be cathartic.” 

 

“No, that’s alright. And anyway, I wouldn’t want to lose his archive.” Nicholas says. Static Man hums agreement. 

 

Nicholas sits up. “I meant what I said, you know. I’m going to help you get your body back.” 

 

“I… Believe you, actually.” Static Man replies. “You’re a good person, Nicholas.” 

 

Nicholas thinks of his father’s skull caving in under his hands, of Dan’s terrified face as he forced him to bargain for his life, and smiles tightly. “I’m not sure I agree, but thank you.”

* * *

 

It’s slow going, getting the body up the stairs, juggling cane, body, and railing, but Nicholas manages. 

 

He brings the body back into the room, careful not to disturb the salt circle, and then hefts it onto the folding table covered with a white bed sheet in the center of the circle. It’s not particularly fancy, as alters go, but it does the job. 

 

He lights the candles, fusses over the arrangement of objects on the altar, then holds out a hand to Static Man.

 

“Are you ready?” 

* * *

 

“I mean, you do have a possession ritual.” Static man says it quietly, after months of fruitless searching. 

 

Nicholas doesn’t turn from his book, but his shoulders tense. “No.” 

 

“Look, I know that murder’s not like, your thing, but I’m sure there’s some assholes out there that we could-”

 

“I said no.” Nicholas snaps. “And anyway, people know what it is now. No one’s going to offer themselves up to get their heart eaten.”

 

“People are stupid, babe. I’m sure there’s some sap we can con-”

 

“Well, if you’re willing to wait twenty years I can just have a kid for you to use.” Nicholas slams the book closed and turns around. “Or shit, why wait. Just kill me, take my heart!”

 

“Well I’ve been trying to steal your heart for awhile now.” Static Man says with an extremely lopsided grin. 

 

“Fuck you.” Nicholas shoves past him, gritting his teeth against the shock. He shuts off the recorder. 

* * *

 

Static Man takes his place on the other side, and watches as Nicholas carves sigils into the body’s chest. 

 

T he knife is sharpened silver, and it gleams in the candlelight. 

 

Once the sigils are carved, Nicholas grabs a goblet, of burnished bronze. He slits the body’s wrist, and blood drips into the goblet. Once the goblet is half full, he hands it to Static Man. Then he holds out the knife. 

* * *

 

Nicholas turns the tape recorder back on almost immediately, but Static Man does not return. He stays gone, ignoring Nicholas’s calls. 

 

In the meantime, Nicholas keeps searching. He grows powerful. Powerful enough to attract the attention of powerful people. 

 

And so, he ends up tied to a chair in a warehouse while some corporate thugs take turns trying to beat the secrets of the universe out of him, as if he isn’t as clueless as they are.

 

He’d laugh, if laughing didn’t hurt so much. 

 

One of the goons grins at him, says, “we know someone who can make you talk,” and Nicholas bites down on his tongue to keep from saying something that’s going to get him stabbed. 

 

The goon pulls out his cell phone and punches in a number, then sets the phone on the floor in front of Nicholas. Then all of the goons huddle by the recorder, staring at the phone like it’s a bomb about to go off.

 

The phone starts to ring.

 

“ **I AM THE ICE THAT PIERCED WINTER’S HEART, I AM THE KNIFE IN DREAMING, I-** Wait, a fucking second. Nicholas?” 

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Nicholas says, because he needs to get that out first, just in case Static Man disappears again. 

 

The man whose phone Static Man just appears out of steps forwards cautiously. “This man has information that we need. As your summoner I order you to-”

 

Static Man waves his hand, and the man explodes. Nick closes his eyes against a spray of blood and bone. He keeps them closed as he hears gunshots, screaming, flesh ripping, and then silence. 

 

Gentle almost-fingers touch his cheeks, brush away bits of bone. “You look like shit, dude.” 

 

Nicholas laughs then, a wild, pained thing. “You should see the other guys.”

 

Static Man kisses him, and he tastes like ozone and violence and home. He slices through Nicholas’s restraints, and the second he’s free Nicholas lunges for him, clings as tightly to his painful electric not-flesh as he can. They slide to the floor together, and Static Man shreds his clothes trying to get them off.

 

Static Man’s not-hands are on him, and in him, and Nicholas sobs when he comes. 

 

When he finds his voice, he says, “I am truly sorry.”

 

Static Man sighs. “Nah dude, don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have pushed.” 

 

“I did- find a ritual. It would take a lot of work, but I think we could- obtain your body.” 

 

“Shit, really? That’s awesome!” Static Man sighs. “Now I feel like a total asshole.”

 

“Maybe answer my calls next time?” Nicholas suggests. “Also take me to a hospital. I think my ribs are broken.” 

* * *

 

Static Man takes the knife, and cuts open his not-an-arm. What leaks from the wound is grey and black and curls like a living thing. Nicholas drops his gaze.

 

When the goblet is full, Static Man pours it into the body’s mouth, then closes it. The body’s throat works as it swallows. Nicholas smiles.

 

“That’s a good sign. That means it’s working. Now, where’s the words…” 

* * *

 

They go to Ms. Roland, and they go to the other world, and they find Chris.

 

She’s tan, white hair pulled back in a braid and a ridiculous pirate’s hat on her head. Lou looks at her like she hung the moon and stars, and they both flirt outrageously with Static Man. Nicholas doesn’t bother asking her if she’s happy. It would be a waste of breath.

 

They go to an island with flowers the size of skyscrapers. They travel deep into the jungle, where moss grows legs and walks. In the heart of that forest, there is a tree that can grow anything. If they can get just one seed, they can grow Static Man’s body back.

 

The night before they’re set to reach the tree, Nicholas and Chris stay up, watching the fire, talking about everything and nothing. 

 

“I hate that I might not remember this.” He says, finally. “I just- I miss you, Chris.”

 

“It sucks a lot.” She says. “Lou says there’s this crystal that might let us talk, but it’s going to be nearly a decade before we can get to it.”

 

“And who knows how long that’ll be for us.” Nicholas finishes. She nods. 

 

“I wish you would stay.” She says.

 

“I wish you would come back with me.” He says.

 

They don’t speak for the rest of the night, and at the end of it, he and Static Man wake up, clutching seeds and utterly without memory. 

* * *

 

“Do you, Static Man, Whisper on the Wind, Knife in Dreaming, Ice of Winter’s Heart, choose to forsake your role and your power?” Nicholas asks. He picks up the second knife, the one made of gold.

 

“I do.” 

 

“Do you wish to again return to mortal flesh, to soil and ash and dust?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Do you- do you choose to die, as all men die?”

 

“Y’know the language of this ritual is kind of sexist.”

 

“It’s not ideal. But do you?”

 

“I do.” 

* * *

 

“Are you still going to want me, once this is over? I mean, I’m not going to be much use to you once you have a body again.”

 

“I think you’re underestimating how sweet your ass is.”

 

“Take this seriously, please.” 

 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that, anyway? I mean, you admitted it yourself. You started getting close to me because i was ‘useful’. I’m not going to be all powerful anymore. I’m just going to be a person. You still gonna want me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then yeah. I’ll still want you.” 

* * *

“Are you ready?” Nicholas asks.

 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

 

“Alright. I- I love you, you know.” 

 

“I know. And Star Wars references aside, I love you too.”

 

“Good. That’s good.”

 

And Nicholas plunges his knife into the swirling blackness of Static Man’s heart.

* * *

The universe expands and spins, ignorant of the ants living on her back.

* * *

 

The body on the table sucks in a gasping breath.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please comment. Comments are a very important part of my next ritual


End file.
